


Not All Loves Are True

by Fair_Feather_Friend



Category: Arthurian Mythology
Genre: Camelot, Depression, Knights - Freeform, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:22:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22463293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fair_Feather_Friend/pseuds/Fair_Feather_Friend
Summary: They'd left Camelot just after the Royal Wedding, with Gawain newly knighted and Lancelot nursing his broken heart.
Relationships: Gawain/Lancelot du Lac (Arthurian), Lancelot du Lac/Arthur Pendragon
Comments: 8
Kudos: 36
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 5





	1. Summer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [havisham](https://archiveofourown.org/users/havisham/gifts).



> How could I resist the prompt: "Neither of them are each other’s true love or anything like that, but I think there’s mutual respect and friendship there that can definitely blossom into something more."

They'd left Camelot just after the Royal Wedding, with Gawain newly knighted and Lancelot nursing his broken heart.

Gawain did not say, 'I know you love him,' although he had been ever present during his time as Arthur's squire. He'd learned the art of discretion at a young age. Secrets were safe with Gawain, who saw much and then covered it with smiles and courtesy. 

Instead he'd said "we're going on an adventure," whisking Lancelot up in the excitement, and leaving no room for Lancelot to disagree. And in truth it was what Lancelot needed. Not just to flee from the aching pain that seized him every time he looked at Arthur, and thought of what could be, but to prove himself more than just this broken hearted aching void. 

They'd ridden hard and fast until Camelot was long behind, the sun had faded and civilisation was but a memory. They'd made camp in the forest, a future of possibilities stretched out before them. This was where they both belonged, on the road, where they could be of the most use.

In the flickering firelight, it was oh so easy to see a young Arthur there, as he was when he first became King. 

But Gawain was not Arthur, the bastard servant turned King. Gawain had been born a prince to a life of privilege, and a family of love. Gawain was blessed by the sun itself, not just in appearance, with his sunlit copper curls, and sky-blue eyes, but also in his nature. He was beautiful, naturally gifted at anything he set his mind to, and while he shared Arthur's dreams he seemed to have few of his own other than to be the best knight he could.

Whenever Lancelot wanted to nurse the wound to his heart, to embrace the darkest of despairs and wallow in the abject misery that never seemed more than a heartbeat away, Gawain was there, distracting, annoying, challenging. There was always a new adventure, a new challenge, a new opponent, a new opportunity on the horizon.

Gawain was not Arthur. Camelot was not his first and truest love. He didn't burn with those same passions, nor did he have that same ambition and drive. But he was enough sunshine and warmth that it helped keep the dark thoughts at bay. 

They fought side by side, each proving themselves to the other, time after time, and at no point did Lancelot worry he was not worthy of this easy friendship.

This was nothing like Lancelot felt for Arthur. Nothing like those first tentative fumbling explorations he'd shared with Arthur in the dark, the stolen moments as they'd learned of love together, followed by the inevitable guilt and shame. This was not the soaring joys or the crashing lows and the inevitability of an end that made every moment such sweet pain. There was no duty that would drive them apart. 

With Gawain, he'd found pleasure in the bright of day, with sunlight dappling on their skin and no shadows to consume them. They'd fallen into finding comfort and release in each other's arms and it was nothing like it had been with Arthur. This was not a great all consuming love. This was not a love that could destroy kingdoms and start wars.

"I am cursed to destroy that which I love," Lancelot had once said in one of his darker moods. 

Arthur had reassured him that could not possibly be the case, never quite sure what to do with the melancholic moods, he gave inspiring speeches to salve Lancelot's wounds. 

Gawain had looked at him, trying to work out if this was truth or the shadows speaking. "All of it?" Gawain had finally asked and while he teased he also understood. "And your mother knowing this still took you into her arms and called you son? What of the sun, do you love it? Such power to end it and cast the world into darkness." 

"You would weaponise my curse?" Lancelot had asked, already seeing all the ways Gawain would continue to tease him on the subject.

The younger Knight instead said. "If you could love being cursed then would that destroy the curse?" He let Lancelot ponder that before saying. "Let us quest for whomever set this curse and have words with them." 


	2. Winter

Winter came as Winter does and Gawain and Lancelot found themselves in Camelot. And Lancelot was not as heart-sore as he'd been.

The Green Knight, burst into the midwinter feast, insulting all present and demanding someone engage him in a game of life and death. Gawain had been quickest to volunteer, to step into Arthur's place. Goaded, insulted, and ridiculed by the Green Knight, he'd still pulled the first two blows, the axe barely grazing the Green Knight's neck. The third strike landed, smiting the Green Knight's head from his shoulders and Gawain would have wept if not that the Green Knight's body remained standing and the disembodied head began to laugh.

Gawain tensed, muscles coiled, grip tightening once more on that axe-handle. Lancelot leapt from his chair, to place a steady hand on Gawain's shoulder. The body grabbed the head by its hair, delighting in the horrified shrieks throughout the room. It threw its head into the air, continuing to laugh as if this had all just been some jape. Lancelot kept a strong grip on Gawain's shoulder, preventing the younger knight from doing something he might regret. 

The Green Knight rode off, head under his arm, reminding Gawain to meet him in a year.

Lancelot never entertained, even for a moment, the idea that Gawain would not return from his quest. But Gawain had been so unusually full of doubts. Something in the Green Knight's demeanour had scarred him to the core.

Gawain had put on a brave face, laughed with the others, and reassured them it was just another exciting adventure. His brothers had threatened to join him, but he'd turned down their offers, as he had when Lancelot had tried to insist.

Gawain was gone a full year, and Camelot went on without him. Other Knights rose in prominence. Other adventures were had. 

When he finally returned he carried the shadows Lancelot knew only too well with him. The light was but a flicker and the darkness threatened to consume. 

It had been a test, Gawain had said, his smile a brittle thing. 

'One not meant for me,' he'd said to Lancelot alone. 'If I'd let Arthur accept the challenge things would turn out very differently. You may have had your heart's desire.' 

What Lancelot desired was a return of the Gawain of old.

The court had tried to tease the story from him, but Gawain remained tight-lipped about it all. Which gave rise to rumour and speculation.

Gawain shared fragments with Lancelot, which Lancelot had then had to piece together into something the shape of the truth.

Gawain had fallen in love, and been betrayed and carried failure heavy in his heart. But it was a trick and a game all wrapped up in a deception. There'd been no way to win, he'd come the closest he possibly could, but he refused to see the shades of grey, that sometimes life is not completely black and white.

One afternoon, Gawain had gone to Arthur and told him the entire tale, Lancelot presumed. The next day Arthur had regaled them all with the tale of Gawain's dashing adventures, casting a hero where one did not wish to be. Gawain drank heavily, and brushed away any questions and compliments on his bravery. 

That night the King had called Lancelot to his rooms, and there Arthur and Guinevere, both handsome in their own ways, had welcomed him into their arms and offered him his heart's desire. 

A love so bold, so fierce, it would change the world. He loved Arthur, and cared for Guinevere and he could see the pattern of how it all would work. Lancelot had longed for this, barely hoped to dream it. He wanted them, a lifetime together, this legendary love that would eclipse all else.

But even as he desired he feared they'd lay the seeds of Camelot's destruction with this love. A secret, if exposed, could be used to shatter all they'd sought to build. 

Lancelot woke before the sun, and found his way to Gawain's rooms. There he roused the other Knight. "Get ready, we're going on an adventure."


End file.
